


Tales of a Drunken Bard

by effelishere



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Cliche, How Do I Tag, I would definitely attend Jaskier's concerts, Jaskier also needs a hug, Jaskier gets drunk, Jaskier-Centric, Just needed to get this out of my system, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22238212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effelishere/pseuds/effelishere
Summary: Jaskier never planned to present the song (Her Sweet Kiss) out in public. Once he finished writing it, he promised to keep its existence a secret. It was meant to be his own special lullaby, to be sung in private.It was an honest mistake the first time. But Jaskier had no excuses when it happened again.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 413





	Tales of a Drunken Bard

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to let you guys know that I've never read the book, nor played the games. I just recently watched the Netflix series, and immediately fell in love with the two. 
> 
> But anyway, this is for my sister who really needs to start reading The Witcher fics (stop sleeping on them!), and who also encouraged me in writing this. (I hope ur proud.)
> 
> (Also, this fic hasn't been proofread yet so there might be some typos here and there. I just wanted to get this out as soon as I finished writing it.)

It was an honest mistake. 

Jaskier never planned to present the song out in public. Once he finished writing it, he promised to keep its existence a secret. It was meant to be his own special lullaby, to be sung in private. In truth, he mainly wrote it to lash out pieces from his overflowing emotions, which he could not even begin to endure. Sadness, desire, anger, frustration. But as time passed, writing songs could only do him so much. 

So he resorted to the drinks; the mysterious, yet magical, beverage that would deprive him of his senses and emotions. With it, he would enter a state that lacks fear, among other emotions. It turns out, the drink’s powers would also amplify his, already poor, decision-making. He would pick fights with the angry lovers of whomst he had previously laid. He would engage in dangerous bets that challenges his non-existent physical strength. He would end up in life-or-death situations, where death would escape him by a mere hair's breadth. Yet the worst decision Jaskier came up with was unwittingly performing his newest song at a random saloon, and to a seemingly attentive audience.

It was an honest mistake the first time. But Jaskier had no excuses when it happened  _ again _ .

“Never knew a Witcher could have human emotions.” Jaskier overheard someone say. He was crouched in the corner of the pub, hoping to avoid unwanted attention. Apparently, it only takes two performances to form and spread all kinds of rumors.

“Well, weren’t they all humans once?” Another replied. “It’s only understandable that Witchers could fall in love.”

Jaskier cringed. He never mentioned Geralt in the song, but someone had recognized him as ‘ _ that Witcher’s bard _ ’ and put two and two together. Now, it was known wherever the land could reach, that a Witcher named Geralt was besotted with an insanely dangerous woman. Jaskier could only pray no one finds out the intended message of the lyrical piece; the underlying tones of desire he carefully weaved into the words. His raw and genuine feelings towards Geralt.

It has been two months since Jaskier last saw the lovable Witcher. It was only a short amount of time until the song reaches him, if it hadn’t already. That very thought sent a shiver to his spine. He fears Geralt would go to great lengths to find him, just so he could deliver a well-deserved blow in the guts (for spreading his depressing love story) and then a prompt rejection to his indirect and awkward confession (because of course Geralt could read well into his songs; their decade long of camaraderie would finally prove itself useful). Not to mention, the incident would only add onto that damned list of his unfortunate events with Jaskier. Geralt would despise him more than he already did.

Deflated, after his ever-so-trusty pessimism, Jaskier left the chattering pub. As he heads to the nearby inn, a hooded figure approached him. His first impulse, without the help of the drink, was to recoil and beg for forgiveness. It didn't matter what it must have looked like; survive now, regret later. 

"Hey, it's okay. It's just me." The figure slowly removed their hood and  _ holy valley of plenty _ , it was Yennefer.

"What are you doing here?" Jaskier composed himself, not wanting to look like a fool in front of his--well, she isn't much of a rival since Jaskier was never a contender, and she isn't really an enemy since she  _ did _ save his life once, plus--

"Words of a talented bard brought me here." Yennefer teased, interrupting his thoughts. 

“Beg your pardon?” Jaskier leaned closer, acting as if he misheard. His nose instinctively wrinkled after catching a hint of ash--or was it gunpowder. His eyes darted to the source. The edge of Yennefer’s dress was burnt in a jagged pattern which, despite the dimly lit torches near them, was quite evident. He then glanced to her face, where a frown began to form.

“I understand that you don’t want to see me right now. I, myself, would rather be somewhere else. But it will bother me forever if I never clarify some things to you.” Yennefer continued. And Jaskier knew not to interrupt, but he could not grasp the entirety of his current situation. Why was Yennefer looking for him, and  _ what had she been doing with fire? _

“What things? Also, what happened to your clothes?” He pointed downwards.

Yennefer folded her skirt in an attempt to hide the char (it didn’t) before looking directly at Jaskier. “How about you shut your mouth for a while and listen to what I have to say.”

Jaskier, taken aback, raised both his hands after miming to zipping his lips. He was suddenly reminded of how scary Yennefer was, naturally wishing for Geralt’s presence. Speaking of, where was he? Didn’t he went off to chase after Yennefer? He looked around, wondering if this was some sort of a prank and the Witcher was hiding somewhere. 

Or maybe that was just his wishful thinking and Geralt actually never wants to see him again, especially after the song’s rising popularity. It was understandable, Jaskier sulked. How could anyone face the person who they thought was their friend but was actually in love with them  _ the whole fucking time _ ? Jaskier sulked some more.

“Geralt and I,” His attention shifted back to the almost-forgotten Yennefer, “We have been through a lot. I love him, and I’m sure he feels the same. But that fact is not enough to make our relationship work. We both need and want  _ more _ . But due to unforeseen and inevitable circumstances, our love alone won’t suffice.”

_ Hol’ up. _ “What?” Jaskier uttered. As a musician, his mind was accustomed to rapid thought processing; he could listen to fast songs and speeches effortlessly. But now, Yennefer’s words sounded foreign. 

She stepped closer and grabbed a hold of his wrist. “I’m saying this to you because I care for Geralt and I know you do, too. He deserves more, Jaskier. And that’s something I can’t do.”

There was a shuffle nearby to which she momentarily glimpsed at before facing him one last time. “I have to go now. I really hope you understand what I’m trying to say.” Her hands slid through his, and he felt a light squeeze. “Be well, Jaskier.”

\---

To say the least, Jaskier was  _ stressed _ . Two or three weeks had passed since his brief encounter with Yennefer, and he still couldn’t grasp the surface of what she said. Don’t get him wrong, it was all he was thinking about ever since. He just didn’t know  _ exactly  _ what to make of it. 

Currently, he had three theories:

Firstly, and most probably, Yennefer had fought with Geralt, again, and just badly needed someone to talk to, and Jaskier, bless his soul, just happened to be around. Maybe she figured out his potent fear towards her and, being the witch that she was, decided to take advantage of it. Jaskier thought it was smart, if that were the case.  _ Smart and pretentious. _

Secondly, which was less probably (but was still up there), Yennefer and Geralt were no longer together and she ought to warn Jaskier about it. Maybe she managed to cipher his song and didn’t want him to make any advances towards the Witcher. It was a cruel plan, but Jaskier didn’t think it was beneath her. Plus, it wasn’t as if Geralt would reciprocate had the bard took initiative.

Thirdly, which didn’t stray far from the second (only a bit kinder in assessing Yennefer’s character), Yennefer and Geralt did end their relationship and she wanted him to know about it. Maybe she thought of Geralt as high maintenance and was warning Jaskier to tread lightly. But it would be futile, Jaskier thought. He loved Geralt’s difficult character. He was pretty sure it was the main reason he approached the broody Witcher in the first place.

(There was a fourth, more hopeful, theory which included mutual feelings and happy endings, but Jaskier chose not to dwell on it.)

These theories, despite consuming a considerable amount of his time, still left him feeling confused. So he stuck with what he was sure of: alcohol.

He was on his fourth round, when he started to feel it; the burning passion for music. At first, he was just tapping on the table and when it wasn’t enough, he resorted to humming tunes of his unfinished pieces. Then his feet started to thump intermittent beats to accompany his hums. Considering the quiet atmosphere of the pub, he was already fairly loud. Nevertheless, he was far from satisfied; his fingers ached for strings. Surely, people were already looking at him weird. But the drink encouraged him to reach for his lute and to play. And, boy, did he play.

He was a few songs in when the entirety of the pub began to chant along. He started with  _ Toss a Coin to Your Witcher _ (a classic), and had moved on to his lesser known works. To say he was having fun was an understatement. He was  _ ecstatic _ . The rush of his blood was insanely fast, and it felt right. It felt as if he could conquer the whole world. 

But, alas, he was running out of songs. He had played pretty much most of them, and he doubted the crowd would be forgiving for a repeat. Moreover, it seemed as if people entered the building just to watch his performance. He couldn’t dare to disappoint. Not now, at least. So he kept strumming.

“ _ The fairer sex, they often call it _ ,” Jaskier caroled. The song was already out there, he thought, what was the use of hiding it?

“ _ But her love’s as unfair as a crook _ ,” He continued. The mass quieted down, but their attention remained on Jaskier. He loved every part of it, so he doesn’t stop.

Until his eyes meets another awfully familiar pair, that is. The color of sunset framed by distinct white locks. Jaskier almost choked on himself.  _ What in the world was Geralt doing here?  _

“ _ It steals all my reason, commits every treason _ ,” his voice started to die down, his gaze resting at the Witcher. Despite having missed the brute, Jaskier can’t help feeling rattled. Then he realized, he was singing the song. Live. In front of him. Was he here to punch him? His theories were immediately thrown off the table. Maybe Yennefer just wanted to warn him about Geralt’s rage.

He felt his stomach sink. Or maybe that was just the alcohol rising back up. 

“Don’t stop!” A random spectator shouted, but he couldn't care less.

“I--that’s all for tonight.” Jaskier quickly grabbed the rest of his stuff before beelining towards the doors. Vaguely, he heard his name being called. He dismissed it and headed out into the frigid night. 

He thought he was able to get away, when a harsh grip held onto his shoulder. “Jaskier.” Geralt breathed. 

He turned to face him, trying to maintain his composure. “What is it, Geralt?” He barked, blood still boiling from his performance high (and alcohol). “More importantly, why are you here?” His warm skin didn’t assent with the evening’s cold air. He shivered a bit.

Geralt let go. “I came here to find you.” 

Jaskier stared at the towering Witcher and was suddenly reminded of their last conversation. He knew their argument could have easily been fixed with Geralt apologizing (Jaskier’s easy like that). But adding in the song and his now-obvious unrequited feelings into the equation, he wished the ground would swallow him whole. 

“Your song.” Geralt mumbled. Jaskier felt the bile rising faster. There was no way they’re having this conversation tonight.

“No…” He shook his head profusely, rejecting the oncoming vomit wanting to escape.

“ _ No _ ?” Geralt brows furrowed on itself. 

Jaskier searched around for an unoccupied bucket, a basin,  _ anything _ . When he didn’t find any of those, he decided to go for an empty patch of grass. He walked a few steps away from the pub, not wanting to inconvenience its patrons.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Geralt demanded, following at his heels. 

Jaskier found the best spot, but then his stomach eased.  _ Fucker. _

“Look,” He exhaled, pointing directly at Geralt. “I already know what you’re going to say, okay? No need to say it out loud.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Geralt countered, and he was right. Jaskier was so distracted right now; he just wanted to throw up and then go straight to bed. And maybe never wake up.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” He snapped, wishing their _ tête-à-tête _ to end before it can even start. 

“It does, Jaskier. You know it does.” For a second, Geralt looked solemn and sincere. But Jaskier brushed it off as his hallucination. The drinks really did a number on him this time. 

“Well, I beg to differ. I don’t want to hear it, Geralt. Not now, not ever.” His stomach gurgled and,  _ fucking hell _ , it was coming.

“But-”

“No, I’m not hearing it. Can’t you see Geralt? I’m fucking--” He stopped midway to lurch towards the ground, retching all over. His eyes teared up a bit while his throat burned like  _ hell _ . 

“Fuck, are you okay?” Jaskier could hear Geralt shuffling behind him before feeling a hand rub circles around his back. Despite the warm gesture, it only made his heart ache. He didn’t remember wanting to be held like this  _ so bad _ . Tears continued to form.

“Yes, Geralt. I’m fucking dandy.” He coughed, getting everything he can out of his system. 

It stayed like that for a solid four or five minutes (but who’s counting, really); Jaskier hacking away, with Geralt’s very large hands supporting him the best way they can. He swore he was getting sober by the minute and he  _ dreads  _ it, because it meant they’d eventually have to talk.

“Here, it’s water.” Geralt offered him a flask to which Jaskier gratefully took. “So, are you okay now?” He continued as the bard rinses his mouth.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Jaskier quipped. He’s finally started to accept that there was no way out of this. If Destiny was a bitch who wanted him to suffer, so be it. He’s been through more than enough heartbreak in his life, what was one more going to do?

Jaskier calmy collected himself, but his resigned voice gave it all away. “What can I do for you, Geralt?”

The reason behind Geralt’s current expression, Jaskier didn’t even want to know. It looked as if  _ he _ wanted to vomit. The Witcher kept on opening his mouth just to close it again, his eyes darting anywhere that isn’t Jaskier. 

“Geralt, are  _ you _ okay?” Jaskier had to ask. “If you want to hit me, you can just go for it. I can manage.”

The statement got his attention and he finally looked at the bard. “What? Why would I hit you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Jaskier sassed. 

Geralt sighed. “I’m not here to hit you, Jaskier.” He paused. “I came to apologize. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier was  _ not  _ expecting this,  _ at all _ . He stared at the taller man for any sign of deceit, but he was only met with the lack of it. He opened his mouth to reply.

“And before you ask, I’m apologizing for insinuating your disturbance in my life.” Geralt added. “It was... uncalled for and false.” 

Jaskier, for the first time in his life, was at a loss for words. 

“And also about the comment I made concerning your singing. It isn’t like a filling-less pie.” Geralt said in a whisper, but it was loud enough for Jaskier to hear. And _ holy. fucking. shit. _

Jaskier scoffed, and then he laughed. “Geralt, what in the world are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Geralt frowned a bit.

Jaskier groaned into his hands. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Do what?” 

Then and there, Jaskier decided that Destiny didn’t know shit and took the matter into his own hands. 

“Hope, Geralt! You’re giving me hope.” His hands gestured away in the space around him. “By now, I’m sure you’ve figured out that I am hopelessly in love with you. I mean, it wasn’t much of a secret from the start. But in case you didn’t know. I am, Geralt. I fucking am. So if you’d please just tell me to fuck off, fuck right off I will. It’s only understandable since--” 

Jaskier was stopped when Geralt grabbed him by the collar. “When do you ever shut up, bard?” 

Their faces were so close, he didn’t know whose breath was whose. Then his heart began to beat uncontrollably fast and loud when he saw Geralt’s eyes flickering from his own down to his lips. It made him a little dizzy. 

Jaskier never thought he’d ever thank his predisposition to drinks. But now, because he was still slightly tipsy, he was also slightly fearless.

“When a Witcher makes me.” He hissed.

**Author's Note:**

> The ending may have been a little fast-paced, but that's only because I really think they'd both get on with it the moment they realize that their feelings were mutual. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> But other than that, thank you very much for reading. I hope you had fun as much as I did writing it!


End file.
